And when Death came unto Him, He smiled
by Sijglind
Summary: Gabriel doesn't think of stars and planets when he feels himself breaking into smithereens. Warnings for major character death. This is not a happy fic.


Earth.

Earth is a blue, green and brown marble in the universe, clouds swirling above its surface like flakes of cotton candy. The planet is the best the Father has created, if you ask Gabriel. And Gabriel should know, he has wandered far – not only on Earth, but through the universe, endless and versatile. He has seen the whole of the Milky Way, and everything beyond; Galaxies and their stars, some of them imploding and dragging everything around them in like a fiery, gaping maw, hungry and unsatisfiable. The universe is beautiful in all its shades, from the impenetrable darkness of a Black Hole to the white hot of a Hypergiant, but strangely enough (or not so strange at all), Gabriel is always drawn back towards the one, small and so seemingly unimportant ball the humans call their home.

(Because Gabriel is lonely.)

He watches as humanity grows and advances, creates and destroys. It's fascinating, and after a time that is nothing to him, but a lot to humans, he slips into their rows, gives himself a face they can look at, a body they can touch, a voice they can hear, and sinks into the pleasures which take over such a great part in their lives.

Gambling, drinking, eating. Sex.

Gabriel is good at these things, plunges into them head first – drinks alcohol like it's water, discovers the explosion of sweetness on his tongue brought by sugar, enjoys to feel of a smirk on his lips while he looks at the nervous faces of his opponents around the table.

He relishes the warmth of a breathing body pressed against his vessel, and the breathless noises of pleasure are the sweetest melody in his ear when he sinks into tight, slick, heat.

(And he doesn't feel so lonely when orgasm crashes over him, makes his body shudder uncontrollably and the blank bliss of relieve washes through his mind. But it's never enough, and too soon there is a hole in his chest, shaped like his family, his brothers and sisters and his father, and it is as hungry as a Black Hole.)

He finds the pagan gods and is amused by their ignorance. They don't know what he is, and he calls himself Loki and smiles when they call him Trickster. He has always been good at pranks, and no one is safe, not even these so called 'Gods'. Sif mourns her golden hair for quite some time. But the pagan entities get weaker with every day, every follower that stops believing in them taking a piece of their power with them, and soon enough they are an endangered race, too petty and puny to satisfy Gabriel's needs any longer, and he moves on to the humans.

Their numbers are getting higher with every year, and the Trickster has a seemingly endless supply of victims for his pranks. He takes their greatest sins and turns them against them, and every single one of them deserves what they get. Gabriel only laughs and takes a bite of his chocolate bar while he watches a rapist being choked to death by the enormous breasts of the woman he had chosen as his last victim, who – unfortunately for him – turned out to be trained in at least five different martial arts.

It only takes him a snap of his fingers to let her disappear again, but not before he'd had the chance of touching the nicely shaped murder weapons on her chest himself.

(Sadly there is only so much fun he can get out of playing tricks, and he has to snap his fingers again to lose himself in an embrace. But even a harem of beautiful women can not stop the void in his rip cage from growing steadily. Centuries go by and he is safely hidden from the eyes of those who search for him. Eventually his siblings give up and pronounce him dead.)

It is only a matter of time until he runs into The Vessels, and yes, there is need for a capitals. Dean and Samuel Winchester are their names, but every angel and demon knows that what they had been called by their parents doesn't matter when _Michael_ and _Lucifer_ is written all over them. They are branded like cattle, even if they can't see the markings themselves. It's imprinted on their souls, their destiny.

The brothers are a masterpiece of Heaven's and Hell's cooperation, molded into the perfect meat suits for Gabriel's two older brothers to release Lucifer and end the feud once and for all on the surface of Earth.

Dean is a soldier like Michael, obedient without a doubt he follows his father John's orders and nothing his brother says is enough to lead him from the path he has been shown.

Sam is meant to be the rebel, baptized with demon blood by Lucifer's son Azazel himself. He leaves his family to lead a normal life far away from the supernatural, but Gabriel knows there is no running away. There are demons all around him, keeping an eye out for the tall boy so he doesn't stray from the path others have decided he must take. Eventually, he returns to his brothers side, and the two of them wander down the spiral towards the End of Humanity obliviously.

But in all their pushing and guiding, neither Heaven nor Hell has seen the flaw in their careful plans, and Gabriel nearly bends in half with laughter when he sees it. Of course they are unable to see their mistake from their positions high above and far beneath. To Gabriel, who has lived for so long between humans, the error is clear as day.

Michael had done as Father has told him without questioning. He had fought his brother and cast him down into the cage, cutting off Lucifer from his family, Heaven and Earth without doubting he was doing the right thing.

But Dean would never turn against Sam. The love between them is too strong and absolute, far stronger than what Michael and Lucifer had felt for each other, since Father and his praise had always been the most important thing in their existence.

In all their scheming, Angels and Demons had not considered the possibility that their plan could be crossed by one of the most human feelings itself.

The irony is not lost on the Trickster.

(He himself has tried to give the Winchesters a little push in the right direction, has tried to pry them apart and make them accept their roles, but even his eons of experience in trickery did not stand a chance against the brothers' feelings for each other.)

Gabriel wants it all to be over. He doesn't know how he wants it to end anymore when he stands in the ring of holy fire, his fallen baby brother Castiel at the Winchesters' side while he listens to them calling him a coward—he just wants it to end.

He had thought the Apocalypse could provide the right end to the feud, bringing peace in the wake of humanity's destruction and the death of Lucifer. But he isn't so sure anymore.

He has become rather fond of the mud monkeys, as some of his siblings call them. They are flawed, but that is what makes them beautiful and so much better than all the angels Father has created. He wonders why it had taken him so long to realize, when Castiel turns his back on him and walks out of the warehouse.

(The water from the sprinklers should not have an effect on him, but as he stands there, clothes soaked and clinging to his skin, Gabriel feels cold seeping into him.)

He follows his brother and the Winchesters, stays with them in their dirty motels without their knowledge, invisible even to Castiel's eyes. He can see the younger angel's grace fading, getting weaker with every minute he stays on Earth and away from Heaven, resisting his orders.

(And Gabriel envies Castiel, is jealous of the affectionate looks he gives the brothers. His baby brother has turned his back on Heaven, but where Gabriel is punished with loneliness and the void in his chest, Castiel has found love and friendship that douses the pain of his dying grace.)

The Winchesters are in a particularly shabby motel when Gabriel finds out about Sam's nightmares the first time.

Castiel is not there, and Dean is fast asleep, prone on his bed like someone has knocked him out, snoring slightly, his limbs sprawled over the mattress. Sam is on his bed, propped up on pillows against the headboard, still awake and reading through something on the laptop balancing on his thighs, its blue tinged light casting sharp shadows on his face. Gabriel has seen the dark purple rings beneath his eyes and the way he is drinking one cup of coffee after the other as if his life depends on it—what could be the case, considering Lucifer and his talent for mind-games.

Sam's head is sinking towards his chest and his eyelids droop slowly, but whenever they close, he shakes himself awake again with a start before he glances over to his brother's sleeping form quickly. This continues for two hours, and Gabriel watches with sympathy. Finally, Sam's body wins the fight against his mind, and he goes limp, the laptop nearly slipping from his fingers and off the bed, and the archangel catches it before it falls to the ground.

It's another half-hour before the flinching starts.

Sam's face is a grimace of grief and pain, his wrinkled forehead covered with a sheen of cold sweat. He makes aborted movements, arms snapping forwards as if he tries to shove someone away weakly. Gabriel can hear him moan '_No_,' and '_leave me alone_', his voice broken and feeble.

Before he even knows he has moved, Gabriel is at Sam's side and brushes the hair clinging to his forehead away.

"Sleep," he whispers and gently presses two fingers to the skin between his eyebrows. Immediately, Sam relaxes, and there is a peaceful sigh escaping his lips that makes Gabriel smile fondly.

Now, more than ever, Gabriel can understand what had made Castiel abandon Heaven's orders to join the two humans on their foolish attempt of saving earth and their kind.

The archangel doesn't leave until the first streams of light break through the ratty curtains of the motel room.

(Sam sleeps better than ever before that night, and in the morning he finds a Snickers bar on his nightstand. Neither Dean nor Castiel claim to have put it there, and if he finds candy next to his bed every day from then on, he doesn't tell anyone.)

When the blade slices through his vessel and into his grace, it is not the endless, albeit destructive beauty of the universe Gabriel thinks of.

Lucifer's face is close to his own, burned by the archangel's grace, which is too powerful to be contained by the vessel, and Gabriel feels sweet malicious glee over the fact that his brother has not yet succeeded in convincing Sam to say yes. Somehow he had known he would not be able to kill his brother, his love for Lucifer still too strong and thus crippling every attack he had aimed at him, and he hopes curiosity will get the better of the Winchesters and they will watch the movie he has left as a parting gift to them. For Gabriel, the fight ends here, between the arms of his fallen brother and the angel blade in his stomach, but he is not as sad as he maybe should be, the feeling quelled by warm relieve and hot hope.

Not all has been in vain. He believes the Winchesters can win. And if not, at least the End will come with a fight worthy of humanity's grandness.

Gabriel doesn't see galaxies and nebulae on the inside of his eyelids when Lucifer twists the blade and his grace is torn to bits, sharp agony erupting inside him, pain like he never felt before burying its claws in his very being until there is only white-hot fire licking at him as if he was flung into a Hypergiant.

No, Gabriel doesn't think of stars and planets when he feels himself breaking into smithereens. Instead, he thinks of two humans and an angel sitting on a shabby couch in a run-down motel room, beers in their hands and genuine smiles on their lips while they raise their drinks in a toast.

And the last thing Gabriel sees are hazel eyes beneath brown hair looking at him affectionately and grateful.

(After that, there's nothing.)


End file.
